Sanctuary
by Arigatomina
Summary: Yaoi, slight violence, Sephiroth x Vincent. Barely having survived his final battle with Cloud, Sephiroth wants to find a place to be alone. But it's a long journey. Luckily, an unwilling helper has quite literally fallen into his lap.
1. Default Chapter

**Author's Notes:** This takes place after the end of the game. If anyone wants to flame for the pairing, don't waste your time. I'm fully capable of arguing with anyone who claims that Vincent is Sephiroth's father. I've heard that claim far too many times and to anyone who thinks that, I'd suggest they play the game again and pay close attention to the dialogue. Towards the end Hojo says flat out that he is Sephiroth's father and that Sephiroth doesn't know it. In fact, when Cloud first has his flashback of Sephiroth, Sephiroth says, "My mother is Jenova. She died right after she gave birth to me. My father... What does it matter...?" There is also the fact that Vincent never makes any claim aside from saying that Lucretia was lovely and that she chose to become part of Hojo and Gast's experiment. Note that when Vincent refers to Sephiroth, he calls him "Lucretia's child" or "her son" – no connection to him except through the woman he cared about. I admit they seem to have had a relationship before she left him, at least on his part, but there's nothing to say it was sexual or that it resulted in a child. Never was there anything that showed or even hinted that she might have been pregnant with Vincent's child when she decided to become part of the experiment – her stomach is completely flat in the flashbacks when she follows Hojo offscreen. All the game showed was that Vincent was against experimenting on humans and that Lucretia left him for Hojo because she disagreed. And he blamed himself for letting her go. For anyone who wants to argue over this point, please feel free to email me. I took very careful notes the last time I played the game and I have faith in what I've learned. The only proof as to who Sephiroth's father is, is Hojo's claim. Anything else is speculation unsupported by the game and in direct contradiction to what Hojo says. There is no reason Hojo would lie when he makes his claim, considering no one was there to hear what he said. He was doing a 'crazy-man' rant, giddy at how shocked his son would be if he knew the truth, after the way Sephiroth looked down on him (Sephiroth respected Gast over Hojo, major burn there).

Category: Game, Final Fantasy VII, Yaoi, TWT  
Warning: slight angst, minor violence, spoilers  
Pairings: will be SephirothxVincent  
Author: Arigatomina  
Email: arigatoumina (a) hotmail . com  
Website: www . geocities . com / arigatomina

**Sanctuary**

_Part 1_

It happened so quickly. Somehow Vincent had expected the end of the world to be drawn out more. He thought people would be forced to suffer longer. But meteor fell with only the slightest hesitation, a token resistance as Holy worked to keep it away from the earth. The extraordinary spell that was supposed to be the only counter for Meteor failed miserably and they were rocked as the two met, the airship tossed on waves of air.

He was nearly blinded by his own hair, his metal claw digging into the railing and preventing him from being thrown over. Red eyes squinting in the brightness of the flame and pale light, he could see Cloud holding Tifa, keeping her secure when her strength wasn't enough to steady her. Yuffie and Barrett were also crouched together, the large man blocking her slide with his metallic arm. He didn't turn to see if Cait Sith were holding his own. The doll could be replaced. Reeve had done so before so there was no worry there. Besides that, if the world were about to end a trip over the edge of the railing would merely simplify things.

The thought crossed his mind at the same time as the ship gave a horrible lurch and something brushed past him. Dark red tipped by orange flame.

Nanaki scrambled at the edge of the railing, his claws curving as he tried to hold himself up. His hind legs scrambled, scratching against the glossy outside of the ship but finding no purchase. Then something glowed beneath him and he turned his head, looking down at the river of green that flowed over the ground.

He heard Barrett call out to him, but his eyes were locked on the current, the lifestream that rushed toward the battleground Meteor and Holy were locked in.

A hand closed over his left foreleg and his head snapped back around. His eyes widening at the scowling gaze of the man leaning over him. A metal claw brushed his right leg but pulled back just as quickly. It would cut his paw off if it closed over him, he was sure of it.

Vincent glared, not daring to look down at the lifestream below the ship. He knew he'd be distracted if he did. The Highwind jerked to the side and Nanaki's claws fell down a few inches, the wood cut with a dull sound that was quiet compared to the lifestream's churning current.

The earth wasn't going to give up without a fight, meaning death now might not be the best choice. The desperate eyes that shone up at him told as much.

The red-cloaked man stepped to the side and Nanaki watched him, keeping as still as possible so he wouldn't fall any further. That clawed hand turned before closing over the edge of the railing, the wood splintering as metal dug in. Then the man was hanging beside him and he didn't know what to think, unable to read the dark eyes that watched him. Vincent's right arm moved around him and he could barely hear the man's low voice over the sounds that rose from below.

"Climb!"

Vincent could see the hesitation and he jerked his head to the side, nodding upward. "My cloak and armor will hold. Climb now!"

The lion-like creature nodded and he turned to look upward as a claw caught on the glove covering his left arm. The material gave a bit, but Nanaki gained traction quickly enough. Vincent winced at the claws climbing up his back, his right hand aching on the sharp edge of the railing.

That flaming tail was held up a bit but he still turned his head to the side to keep from being singed as Nanaki reached his shoulders. Then the red tail was over the railing and he pulled himself up with his arms, his steel-toed boots useless against the polished wood.

A dull rip sounded an instant before he swung to the right. He compensated as quickly as possible, clutching the railing with both hands. The glove hung there for a moment, the torn leather straps catching his eye. Then it fell and he looked down, following its progress as the blinding lifestream swallowed it up.

His eyes were dazed by the color, swirling, glittering, inviting. Sharp pain in his wrists brought him back.

Vincent looked up to find that his grip had loosened while he was distracted by the lifestream. Blood trailed down his arms to the sleeves of his black shirt. His eyes were caught on Nanaki's long claws and he was suddenly intrigued by how deeply they were caught between the bones in his wrists.

The Highwind jerked again and the pain flared again as those claws curved tighter. Vincent's breath hissed against the high collar of his cloak.

Nanaki didn't know what to do. He was vaguely aware of Cloud trying to get to them. His claws were slipping, slicing through the man's thin skin and thicker cartilage in a way that made his stomach curl. He could feel Vincent's hands curling but they'd slipped too far to get a grip on the railing.

The light churned around them as the Lifestream clashed with meteor, but Nanaki's eyes were locked on Vincent's dark hair. The man was no longer looking at him, but rather at his claws. He wondered vaguely if the sight disturbed the human as much as it did him.

He heard a familiar curse in the background as Cid tried to steady the Highwind and he glanced back to see Cloud pressing Tifa into the shelter of Barrett's large arm. The blonde youth looked at him just as the entire airship fell down sharply, clipping trees before rising again.

Nanaki's head snapped around, but his claws flexed on nothing. Startled red eyes stared up at him from a mess of black hair as the man fell, swallowed by a churning sea of pale green.

- - -

His first sensations were of restraint, as if he'd become tangled up in something. His eyelids were heavy, and he lay still for a while before he could force them to lift. He stared upward, his vision too blurred to make out more than the darkness above him, shadows that might have been trees.

Vincent had barely begun to shift when he realized he was lying on something, against someone. A warm arm was wrapped over his stomach, holding his own arms immobile. He tensed and tried to lift his head. Another arm lay over his neck, tilting his head back. A long minute passed as he realized his situation. Then he struggled suddenly.

That arm tightened around his neck until his vision swarmed red, blood pounding in his ears. A low voice whispered something behind him, but he sank into darkness without making it out.

- - -

When he woke again, it was as slowly as he had before, but without the disorientation. Although his head hurt badly enough to make him long for more sleep, he knew he was lying on someone, someone who was leaning against something – if he judged the angle correctly. That arm was still around his waist, but a hand was circling his wrists now, holding them together in a loose hold. He didn't need to see to know this. Even that light pressure was a lowly throbbing pain.

The person behind him was breathing deeply and Vincent held very still, his back lifted by the rise and fall of a chest. There was a sharp blade along his neck. He felt it as he swallowed, but it wasn't pressed to his skin. It seemed to be there more as a warning – to be used only if necessary. After a moment's thought, he wondered if his captor wasn't sleeping.

He'd lost his gun during the fall, and Yuffie had taken his materia immediately after the last battle. Now he wished he'd held onto it, despite promising her she could have it. He didn't even have his clawed glove.

Too many years had passed since he'd first acquired the addition and it was odd to be without it now. He felt vulnerable, almost bereft somehow. But it made him wonder if he could access Chaos. The limit break would be enough to take care of anyone, but a quick check told him he didn't have enough battle experience built up.

The sword shifted, razor-edge barely touching his skin. Vincent opened his eyes, looking at the pale sky above the trees and waiting. The person he was leaning on sat up slowly, moving him as well until he was supporting himself. Then his hands were released.

Vincent still didn't move though, since the sharp blade was still pressed to his neck. His head was tilted and he glanced to the side without moving. The person leaned over his shoulder, pale hair entering his line of sight. From the corner of his eyes he saw an infinitely familiar face. He froze in simple shock.

"Sephiroth?!"

"It's amazing," Sephiroth whispered, sea-green eyes glaring at his captive, "that even now you won't let me be. Even after defeating me, destroying meteor, you still follow me. But you, you're in no condition to kill me."

Staring into that hateful gaze, Vincent remained silent. Death was probably imminent, but a cool numbness met his senses and he waited patiently. After all, he had no reason to fear death. He'd been dead for years as far as his humanity was concerned.

The pale-haired man spoke again and Vincent felt a vague sense of surprise, nothing like his first shock. Sephiroth sounded different somehow.

"...and I barely survived..."

The man seemed almost to be talking to himself. Vincent turned his eyes forward again, still holding motionless. They were in a small clearing, the trees familiar to his sight. He remembered striking a few of them during his fall, before he'd landed hard enough to knock himself out.

His gaze flicked back to the scowling man leaning over his shoulder and he blinked, voice cool. "Why haven't you killed me yet?"

Sephiroth glared at those calm red eyes, his lip twitching into a slight sneer. "I just wanted to be left alone."

There was dried blood on the pale man's face and Vincent stared at it for a moment before commenting on the odd words. "Why didn't you just leave, then?"

"So you could have the opportunity to catch me off guard?" Sephiroth murmured, his eyes mocking. "I didn't survive the life stream just to die because some petty wounds left me vulnerable."

Understanding dawned quickly and Vincent's eyes rose to the blood again. Sephiroth was still suffering from the final attack against him. And he'd said it already, he was vulnerable, meaning death might not be assured after all.

Eyes flicking to the trees across from them, Vincent took in the surrounding more carefully. He just had to wait for an opening, with care taken for the sword at his throat. As if in response to his thought, a hand clenched in his hair, jerking his head back.

"Do you have Jenova's cells in you?" Sephiroth asked, his voice hardening suddenly.

Those red eyes glared at him and Vincent grabbed his wrist, pulling the sword back a few inches. Sephiroth's grip tightened around thick black hair, hiseyes flicking over Vincent's angry expression.

"It's true," said Sephiroth. "I remember you from the battle. I saw you fight. I could _see_ Hojo's hand in you."

Vincent shivered despite himself, not meeting those pale eyes. It wasn't Jenova. Experiments, magic, Mako poisoning, torture, yes, many things had been involved in his change, but not that.

His voice was a low whisper, hiding his involuntary weakness. "I share no blood with _you_."

Sephiroth shoved him forward suddenly and he landed on his hands and knees. He glared for a moment before rising to his feet. His hands curled, very aware of his lack of weapons, and he turned to look at his enemy.

The white-haired man was crouched on the ground, that dried blood making him seem even paler than Vincent remembered. But Sephiroth must have healed somehow because he stood slowly, his stance not betraying any injuries.

"Who are you, then?"

The voice had a tint of curiosity in it that made Vincent frown in surprise. Sephiroth didn't know. But then, how could he?

His mind flew back to the man's quiet words. He'd said he wanted to be left alone. Vincent wondered if that were possible, that Lucrecia's son might actually have gotten past his madness. Cloud had told him that Sephiroth was once a Soldier and that discovering his origin had caused his eruption. It was possible that the man had calmed after his defeat by Cloud.

Vincent simply couldn't believe it. It couldn't be that easy. But Sephiroth didn't seem to be injured at all, yet the man hadn't attacked him. Those pale sea-green eyes were merely watching him with a thoughtful expression.

His own eyes dropped, skirting over the ground. His gun had been hooked to his hip when he'd fallen, but he saw no sign of it now.

A rush of wind whipped his hair and his head jerked back, narrow eyes going to the spot where Sephiroth had stood. He'd only looked away for a few seconds, but that was all the man needed to disappear on him. Vincent tensed, glaring around the clearing.

His arms were caught from behind, and Vincent jerked in surprise and anger, his red eyes narrowing to slits. His wrists burned at the hold on them, reminding him that not only was he unarmed, he was also injured.

That sword wasn't pressed to him this time, but he held still, expecting it soon enough. Sephiroth leaned over his shoulder again and he turned his glare toward the man. He had to hide his surprise when he caught sight of Sephiroth's small smile.

"You're going to help me," Sephiroth smirked, watching as Vincent's red eyes widened.

Surprise shook him, knocking away both his wariness and his anger. Vincent blinked in confusion. "With what?"

Sephiroth gave a dark smile. "If you found me, then the others could as well. You're going to help me get to Nibelheim."

Those red eyes darkened and Sephiroth shifted his hold on the man's wrists, expecting resistance.

Ice stabbed its way through him and Vincent flinched away from those pale eyes. Nibelheim? The place was one he didn't want to see again. He couldn't think why Sephiroth would want to go there, but he knew he was never setting foot in the town again.

Vincent grasped his cold resolve and glared back at the eyes watching him. "What makes you think I would help you?"

It made no sense. Sephiroth obviously didn't need help getting anywhere. The man may not have been up to another fight with Cloud and the others, but Vincent knew the fighters thought their enemy dead. There was no point in Sephiroth even worrying about their coming after him.

Sea-green eyes glinted and Sephiroth gave him a quick smile, not quite as dark as the last, but still mocking.

"It's the last place they would go, now that their world is saved," Sephiroth murmured.

His hand closed in an iron grip around Vincent's wrists and he raised his right arm, curving it over the man's cloaked shoulder. Those red eyes widened when they fell on the golden orb in his hand and the man struggled suddenly. Yellow light made his eyes narrow a bit, but Vincent's struggles stilled, the pale glow settling over his red-clothed form. Sephiroth smirked.

"You may have lost your materia," he said, his smirk widening, "but I haven't. Without your supportive materia, you're easily manipulated."

Sephiroth released the man's wrists and took a light step back. Vincent remained immobile.

Replacing the materia, Sephiroth moved to stand in front of the black-haired man, his eyes sweeping over him. He hadn't had a chance to really look at him last night, since he'd been occupied with healing himself. Now his hand rose to touch the metal buckles holding Vincent's cloak closed over the bottom half of his face.

His lips curved into a smirk and he met glaring red eyes. He knew the man was aware, even if he was helpless. With a flick of his fingers he parted the cloth and paused in surprise. He'd expected to find the man deformed, or scarred at the least. But he wasn't. In fact, the man looked as young as him, that pale face clear of any lines as if he'd never shown expression.

Sephiroth's hands fell and he glared suddenly, his gaze locking on Vincent's face. Those eyes had been dark red before, glaring with a cold anger that Sephiroth had fully expected. They were wide now, and panicked somehow. He didn't know what to make of the change. He frowned, taking a slow step back.

It took a simple thought to loosen his control over the man enough to let him speak and Sephiroth jerked his head. "What's wrong with you?"

Stubborn silence was his answer as those bright red eyes darkened back into that hard glare. Sephiroth raised an eyebrow and smirked at the resistance.

"Fine," Sephiroth mocked. "Keep your silence, then."

He waved a hand to the side, prodding the man in his mind and watching as Vincent walked past him. The dark-haired man's steps were stilted a bit, but not too noticeably odd.

Sephiroth was glad he kept plenty of turbo ethers on him. He was sure he'd have to reapply the spell often. Even without his accessories and materia, Vincent seemed to have a strong natural defense against magic. But then, Sephiroth had lost few of his items in the lifestream and he still had a hypnocrown. That increased his ability to manipulate so much that no inherent strength would be enough to resist him.

Sephiroth couldn't help but think of how useful the man would be. While Cloud and the others probably wouldn't look for him, it would be better if he wasn't spotted by anyone. He wanted no rumors to make their way back to the boy and his comrades. With Vincent, he could use the man to acquire a boat. It would have been quicker to fly, and he was almost completely recovered, but doing something like that would increase the likelihood of his being spotted.

Besides that, he was in no hurry. It was as if all of his ambitions had left him, wiped out somehow. But he wasn't going to dwell on the lack of motivation.

He had a desire to reach Nibelheim, the place where it had all started. Despite being the jumping point of everything, the town was isolated, surely empty by now. No one would bother him there.

They were a long way from that destination, though, and Sephiroth's mind flew, even as he kept Vincent moving in front of him. Once they got out of the wooded mountains surrounding the crater, it would be a simple thing to walk to the Icicle Inn. Surely he could find some sort of transportation there.

He had every intention of stealing a chocobo and crossing the mountains to Bone Village if that was what it took. There had to be boats in that town, considering how near it was to the ocean. He'd thought this plan out the night before, as he'd healed himself and watched his captive. Now, he let a small smile curve his lips. He was actually feeling relief to have figured it out. And there was absolutely nothing to stand in the way of fulfilling his plans.

- - -  
TBC

--notes--  
Expect typical Arigatomina angst in the future, as well as shonen ai (no plotless PWP here) and definite lemon content. I've yet to find a fic for this pairing that wasn't a PWP or horribly violent on Sephiroth's part, so I thought I'd try and break the pattern. If anyone does know of one, please let me know. Just keep in mind that I mean SephirothxVincent – I'm not interested in a tearful vulnerable Sephiroth in a sappy VincentxSephiroth pairing. I like Sephiroth as a seme – I don't want to read him cast as a weeping femme.


	2. Part 2

Category: Game, Final Fantasy 7, Yaoi, TWT  
Warnings: slight violence, hints of shonen ai  
Pairings: will be SephirothxVincent  
Author: Arigatomina  
Email: arigatoumina (a) hotmail . com  
Website: www . geocities . com / arigatomina

**Sanctuary**

_Part 2_

No matter how high the sun got over the mountain, the warmth never penetrated the copious wood. Once again, Vincent was forced to appreciate the thick cloak he'd been provided with during his enforced hibernation. The dark red material was held closed over his shoulders and did some work in sheltering his bare arms. But his lips were numb, and he fully expected frost to begin clinging to his nose where warm breaths floated within his vision. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been outdoors without the cloak fully closed, and he glared at the misted air.

It was bad enough Sephiroth had cast the manipulation spell over him. The least the man could do was allow him some sort of movement. The only thing he had control over was his breathing, and his eyes. And his eyes were locked straight ahead so he wouldn't have to look at the man responsible for his condition.

As angry as he was at the man, part of that anger was also directed at himself. He'd fought in countless battles, but he'd never once suspected he had a weakness to manipulation spells. His ribbon prevented all status affects, and he'd assumed, like a fool, that its power included a block on manipulation spells as well. He should have known better.

They were making good time, as far as Vincent could tell, but Sephiroth was obviously in no rush. He didn't understand that. The man could easily have forced him to a faster pace, and he'd have been physically able to run for quite a while before giving out. But he hadn't. In fact, they were going slower than he'd have preferred.

Though he couldn't tilt his head to look, Vincent had an idea that his steel-toed boots were caked in ice as well as snow. They simply weren't walking fast enough to conserve body heat.

It made him wonder if Jenova's cells hadn't given Sephiroth some sort of immunity to the elements. Not that it mattered. Freezing to death was preferable to taking the swordsman to his destination.

One way or another, Vincent was determined not to make it through the trip. He was never setting foot inside Nibelheim again, and he certainly wasn't going to be slain by Sephiroth within those walls. No matter what the man had planned, it would not happen.

Although Sephiroth had never actually used a manipulation spell on a human, he was getting rather good at it. He no longer even had to look at the black-haired man in order to control him. He strolled along after his captive, his gaze shifting lazily over the forest.

It was so quiet.

He'd expected a dangerous place, thriving with monsters. But he hadn't glimpsed a single one in the last four hours, not even tracks. It made him wonder if the clash among Meteor, Holy, and the Lifestream hadn't cleaned the life from the land around the crater. If that were the case, then he realized he would be in trouble long before they reached the Icicle Inn.

He'd been crystallized in the lifestream for so long that he shouldn't have had human urges, but he couldn't help himself. After being awake and active all morning, he was starving. And he had yet to see a single creature, let alone one worth eating.

Of course, he could wait. He doubted he would die of hunger, but it was irritating. When they'd set out he'd hoped they wouldn't be slowed down by monsters, and now he was angry that there weren't any. And his own empty stomach made him wonder how his captive was doing.

He didn't know anything about the man, not even his name. He'd obviously had some tie with Hojo, but many people had ties with the late scientist. Sephiroth knew Cloud had picked the man up somewhere, but compared to the other oddities the boy had teamed up with, the black-haired man was almost normal.

Thinking of Cloud, he frowned at the snow-laden ground, pushing his captive on absent-mindedly. He was amazed the boy had gotten so strong. The last time he'd seen him...so long ago, he hadn't even had the strength to be a Soldier. To think, that boy had defeated him despite Jenova's powers. He'd never have thought Cloud had the potential for such a thing.

The ground sloped down ahead of them, and Sephiroth slowed their pace, his mind focusing on his footing. There were fewer trees on the grade, the snow thick enough to reach the edges of his high boots. While he wasn't in a hurry, he frowned at the nuisance, tempted to use a fire spell to clear the snow.

He actually thought about that for a moment or two, wondering what the black-haired man would think if he did. His eyes shifted to the man in question just as his feet slid beneath him.

With wide eyes, Sephiroth skidded to a halt, one leg buried to the knee in a burrow of snow. He was staring in disgust and almost missed his captive's descent. One moment the black-haired man was walking a few feet to his left, and the next he was on his back nearly three yards down the hill.

Sephiroth blinked once before throwing his head back with a sharp laugh. He pulled his own leg free of the snow-hidden hole and edged to the side. Then he made his way carefully down to stand over the fallen man.

Wide red eyes filled the man's face and Sephiroth snickered again, breaking into full laughter when those eyes narrowed to glare at him.

Vincent really wasn't sure what had just happened, but the one thing he knew was that Sephiroth's laughter was definitely not called for. There was nothing funny about his position.

Snow was touching his arms, his cloak bundled beneath him from the slide, and he could feel icy wetness melting into his clothing. His angry glare only seemed to spur Sephiroth on and he closed his eyes, deep breaths helping to calm him.

If the idiot wanted to laugh at him, then there was no point being embarrassed about it. After all, he wasn't the one who'd missed his step. Sephiroth was to blame for the navigation, not him.

Despite his calming breaths, that laughter made his fingers curled into fists. Vincent frowned suddenly as he realized he could move on his own again. And oddly enough, he wasn't sure if he wanted to.

If he stood the man would cast the spell on him again, but if he remained he would catch pneumonia. After a moment of thought, Vincent cleared his expression and uncurled his hands, remaining absolutely still.

Sephiroth couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed so hard, but his smile faded slowly when the man lay motionless on the snow. He'd loosened his control so his captive could extricate himself. But he didn't. That pale face was absolutely blank when he frowned down at him. Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. It couldn't be comfortable.

"Did you break something?" he asked.

Those black eyebrows lowered, an irritated frown breaking over Vincent's face, and Sephiroth's lips twitching into a dark smirk. Red eyes flicked open to glare at him and his smirk widened.

Crouching next to the fallen man, Sephiroth tilted his head to the side and glanced over the red and black-clothed figure. "Taking a nap?"

That glare darkened and he plucked at the man's red cloak, feeling the thick material with a suggestive smile. "It doesn't look comfortable, but I could use a break myself. Maybe I should join you."

The words had no more left his lips than the man jerked away, sitting up and glaring hateful red eyes at him. Sephiroth smiled back. "Guess not."

Teeth clenching painfully, Vincent kept his eyes away from that bright, glittering gaze. Sephiroth seemed to enjoy tormenting him, and he knew he'd just given in. But there was no way he'd lay there with Sephiroth leaning over him like that.

His left hand was numb by the time he pushed himself up, and the fingerless glove on his right protected nothing but his palm, but he was beyond caring. That quick soaking would be enough to affect him, even if it wasn't enough to actually incapacitate him.

Sephiroth didn't speak, and Vincent climbed to his feet, not looking back at the man. For a second he wasn't sure what to do with his brief freedom, but a deep breath told him. His benumbed hands fumbled over the clasps of his collar. He managed to close the top of his cloak seconds before the white-haired man moved in front of him, golden orb in his palm.

Red eyes glared at him over the top of the man's red cloak, and Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at him.

"Now why would you do that?" he murmured, his lips twisting into a mocking smirk. "Your glare's hardly intimidating, under the circumstances. And I must say, you look better with it undone."

The man said nothing, and Sephiroth lifted his manipulation materia, brushing a black-gloved hand over the smooth surface as he held the man's gaze.

"I can always undo it again," he reminded him, tossing the orb from palm to palm.

Those red eyes shifted down to follow the movement and Sephiroth stopped, waiting until the man glanced up again.

"Give me a name," he prodded, "and I won't."

That was a surprise, not the fact that Sephiroth didn't know his name, but the revelation that the man couldn't force him to speak. Vincent had never used a manipulation materia on an intelligent creature, as far as he knew, but the ones he had done it to had obeyed every order. It was nice to know the limits.

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at him, tossing that orb back and forth again, and Vincent thought about the offer for three entire seconds. Telling the man his name was much preferable to having his face uncovered beneath those bright eyes, and especially in this weather.

While he wasn't averse to freezing, he preferred to go out at least partially comfortable. The cloak filtered his breaths and kept the biting cold from his throat and lungs. That was an added benefit.

With a dark glare, he answered. "Vincent."

"Vincent...Vincent." Shifting in the snow, Sephiroth's eyes narrowed a bit as he frowned at the man. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

The black-haired man stared at him, his expression hidden by that high collar, and Sephiroth rolled the name in his mind, looking for a connection. "Vincent. Vincent...Valentine."

The man flinched back with wide eyes and Sephiroth's lips curved into a wide smirk. "Ah, that's you, is it? Yes, I've seen that name...in Nibelheim. Hojo's files..."

Vincent's eyes looked odd, and he frowned when the man closed them suddenly. "What _is_ your connection to Hojo...Vincent?"

Stepping forward, Sephiroth waited for a moment before his gaze darkened with a soft snort. "Playing mute again, are you? Fine. I'm sure the files are still in Nibelheim. I'll have to remember to check them when we get there."

That was one more reason to make certain he never reached Nibelheim. Even with his eyes closed, Vincent felt the spell when it fell over him again, starbursts flashing for a second behind his eyelids. But he wouldn't bother to look. He didn't have to see to be moved like a puppet.

Silence told him that Sephiroth hadn't moved yet, and he felt a cool wind ruffle his hair and cloak as he waited. A soft crunch sounded when the man stepped on slightly frosted snow and his eyes snapped open as he felt hands on his collar. Pale blue-green eyes glinted above a mocking smile, and he stared in angry disbelief.

It only took a moment to undo those clasps. Stepping back again, Sephiroth shook his head at Vincent's outraged glare.

"If you don't want to...play nice...why should I? Besides," he drawled, enjoying the man's blatant anger, "you do look better like that."

Those red eyes narrowed, but Sephiroth merely smiled before moving aside and prodding the man onward. He had really meant the deal when he'd proposed the trade, but something about Vincent's stubborn silence annoyed him. That, added to the truth of his own comment, voided him of any guilt over the lie.

Though Vincent started a few steps ahead of him, Sephiroth slowed the man so he could lead the way this time. As much fun as that little incident had been, it would cost them half a day. The moment he found something to kill, he'd have to use the cooking fire to dry his captive out before he froze to death. Remembering how the stubborn man had lain so still in the snow, Sephiroth shook his head with a small smile. This really was turning out to be more entertaining than he'd ever have thought.

- - -

The landscape smoothed into a long white stretch that signaled the end of the forest. And it was obvious why there were no trees since the snow had packed hard against solid rock. It made the travel easier in part, since there was less worry of hidden holes, but the wind rushed along the bare landscape with enough force that even Sephiroth felt the cold. But stopping really wasn't an option.

After another hour of open air, they made it to a slight cliff without incidence. The bare rock was only ten feet above the snow below, so they jumped down and Sephiroth gave in to the weather long enough for a slight pause. The snowy field they were on was shielded to either side by cliffs that formed a sort of tunnel, and he knew it led straight down to the Icicle Inn.

Vincent's eyes were closed when Sephiroth looked at him, and he wondered at that. The man didn't need to see, but it was odd to have him walking blind like that. It made him wonder if he could sleep while being manipulated. But he seriously doubted his captive were sleeping. No, Vincent was simply ignoring him the only way he could, and it amused him too much to complain.

Sephiroth was cold and hungry, but the sun was high overhead. When they stopped, it would have to be for the night, so he didn't want to set up camp now. Instead, he hesitated long enough to loosen his control over the spell, just a bit. Those eyes remained closed as he folded his arms over his chest and watched Vincent.

"And how are you holding out?" asked Sephiroth.

He was not going to answer. Even if his lips hadn't been frozen together, Vincent would not have answered the man. Actually, he wasn't as cold as he'd have thought. His change must have included some extra resistance against prolonged exposure to cold weather, because Vincent didn't feel nearly as bad as he'd expected, and hoped. And now that he'd thought about it, he hadn't been affected as much as the others when Cloud had first led them up this same path.

He should have known he wouldn't be susceptible to a weakness when he actually wanted to be.

Something touched his face, and his eyes opened automatically, his vision blurred for a second. Then he blinked in surprise when a finger tapped the clear skin between his eyes, just below his ribbon.

"Are you frozen?" Sephiroth smirked, his eyes glinting merrily.

He really was enjoying this more than he'd expected to. Red eyes blinked at him, and he pulled his hand away.

"You won't be much good to me frozen," he commented, running gloved fingers through his long silvery-white hair as he perused the man. "No, that would be an inconvenience for both of us."

The man's tone was odd, much different from the deadly taunts Vincent remembered so well. And now that he thought about it, he had to admit Sephiroth had been acting strangely since he first woke up to find the man alive. It made him wonder if this were the Sephiroth Cloud had known so long ago. But he didn't pause on that thought for long. His gaze flicked away with a dull glare.

"You'd have to find someone else," he said coldly.

He couldn't move his head, but he managed a fiery glare when Sephiroth tugged on his hair. The man's smile was infuriating. Whether Sephiroth had changed or not, the man was definitely just as twisted as ever. He was enjoying this entrapment.

"Why would I want someone else?" Sephiroth murmured, his hand twisting around thick black hair. He glanced down at that for a second, turning his palm to look at the dark strands before smirking again.

"You work as well as any," he continued, "and we have something in common, don't we."

Red eyes narrowed in definite, if dark, confusion. Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at him. "Cloud? Meteor?"

Vincent glared at him and he shrugged lightly, letting go of that thick hair. "We were on opposite sides, but it still counts. There's no reason I should have to find a stranger to be my...escort."

There was little give to the man's glare and Sephiroth stepped back, waving his hand and prodding his captive forward. "If you loosen up a bit, you might even enjoy this little romp. I certainly plan to."

He had to be kidding. Vincent didn't say it, but the thought smoldered in his mind as he glared ahead of him, not looking at the man who passed him casually. He didn't know what to make of Sephiroth, but the villain was acting in a way that both confused him, and made him wary. The only thing he was sure of was that Sephiroth _was_ enjoying himself. That much was painfully obvious. And the man was right about their connection.

Though he had no intention of continuing his role until they reached Nibelheim, Vincent was aware that he would fair better than any normal person. If he didn't detest the place so much, he might have considered this a punishment of sorts. Certainly it was better for him to be the one 'escorting' Sephiroth, rather than allowing some innocent bystander to take his place. But he was not going to volunteer for it, not this time.

A sound caught his ear, and he glanced to the side, watching the cliff wall to his right. Obviously he held something over Sephiroth. The man didn't seem to hear their trackers.

The little white monster got close enough to attack before Sephiroth spotted it against the snow, and he had his sword in hand immediately. He recognized the species of violent, Jumping Rabbit, but there was nothing to worry about from it. The creatures were eager enough to attack monsters much larger than them, but they lacked the strength to do any real damage.

The three-foot-tall hopping monster bound straight at him. Sephiroth caught it when it suddenly veered to the side. One flick of his sword and red coated the fur and snow the same color as Vincent's cloak. And he saw the similarity because the man in question fell at the same moment as the Jumping, a large Bandersnatch crouched on top of him.

The wolfish monster bared bloody fangs at him, obviously thinking its prey dead since Vincent was absolutely immobile. Sephiroth glared back at the ignorant creature and swiped his sword through the golden mane that flowed back from the wolf's neck. He'd no more than severed the thing before multiple growls set up in the cold air, nearly half a dozen more wolves leaping down from the cliffs to either side of him.

Although Vincent had planned to do nothing to prevent the ambush, his arm lifted when the control over him disappeared. One of the wolves leapt for his throat and he thrust his left arm up instead, his teeth clenching when it was latched onto.

He was still on his back after that first leaping attack, and he rolled away from the wall, his narrowed eyes noting exactly who was the target of the pack. His prone position made him the prey, and he growled in fury at his weakness, only vaguely aware of the fight going on a foot away.

Snapping jaws tore at his shoulders, not quite making it through his thick cloak. He ducked his head, arms held up to protect the back of his neck. This was _not_ how he wanted to die.

All Sephiroth had ever heard of the Bandersnatch species was that they attacked in pairs. Obviously that was on normal occasions. There were so many of the bastards he couldn't help wondering where they'd come from. The terrain was so stark they were feral in hunger. He was surprised they hadn't taken to killing each other, rather than ganging up into such a large pack.

These quick thoughts accompanied his movements, each swipe of his sword killing one, sometimes two wolves. He would have simplified the entire thing with a magic attack, but they seemed to flow directly to Vincent, and no matter how strong the man's inherent resistance to magic was, he couldn't take the risk.

Three minutes passed before he stabbed the last one, and Sephiroth glared glittering blue-green eyes to the cliffs lining their path, almost daring more to come.

By the time he pushed himself up, Vincent was thoroughly disgusted. Aside from his bare arms, he retained almost no injury from the attack. And it had been the perfect way out of this mess. If he'd simply held still, he might have built up enough battle experience to use his limit break. Now, all he'd managed to do was to tear his arms into lovely ribbons of flesh and blood.

He didn't bother to look up as he wrapped his cloak around his left arm, the snow-dampened cloth absorbing the color without any noticeable change. If he'd wanted to avoid injury, he should have thought more about throwing his arm out. He'd forgotten the glove was gone.

A hand entered his line of vision and he jerked back, glaring when he found Sephiroth crouching in front of him.

"What are you doing?" asked Sephiroth.

He was looking at that wrapped arm, and he blinked when Vincent's hand caught his wrist, holding him away from his target. Red eyes were glaring darkly at him and Sephiroth's lips twitched as he in turn caught Vincent's wrist with his free hand. Did Vincent really think he needed a manipulation spell to get his way?

He held Vincent's eyes, tightening his grip on the man's swollen wrist. Those eyes narrowed and his arm was freed. He loosened his hold immediately.

"Now be still," Sephiroth smirked, pushing the hand down on Vincent's bent leg.

He caught the man's left arm and unwrapped it. The red material clung when he pulled it away from the wound, a playful grimace crossing his face.

"Nasty," he drawled, "but easily fixed."

He pulled out a heal materia and Vincent's belligerent glare disappeared. Sephiroth blinked in surprise. "What?"

"Why-"

Sephiroth snorted lightly, turning his attention to the wound again. He cast the spell, making sure it healed not just the torn arm, but that mottled swelling on Vincent's other wrist as well. Then he stood, wiping snow off his coat.

"You're no good to me if you bleed to death," said Sephiroth. "Besides, with all the blood here the rest of the monsters in this area won't bother us."

Vincent was still staring at him and Sephiroth smirked, reaching into his coat for his manipulation materia. It only took a moment to cast it again, and he waited as Vincent obediently retrieved the Jumping he'd killed earlier. The monster had drained enough that it probably wouldn't emit enough of a scent to attract more wolves. But he still let Vincent move ahead of him this time.

The attack had come so quickly that he was almost surprised at himself. He should have been expecting it, and his carelessness had almost made him lose his escort. It was pure luck the first Bandersnatch hadn't killed the man. As busy as he'd been with the other wolves, Sephiroth knew he would have had trouble casting a revive spell in time to bring the man back if that happened. From now on, he'd have his captive in front of him, at least until they got out of this area.

Most monsters didn't attack so quietly, but he was sure he could handle the next batch better. The pack had obviously kept below the edge of the high cliff walls, putting any oncoming attackers at a distance where he could use magic without any worries. But he was hoping that wouldn't be necessary. After he put a mile or so between them and the dead Bandersnatches, he fully intended to set up camp and cook that rabid rabbit monster.

His eyes glinted as he looked over Vincent's back, wondering if the man were as hungry as him. He'd just have to allow him the pleasure of trying it out first, just in case.

- - -  
TBC


	3. Part 3

Category: Game, Final Fantasy 7, Yaoi, TWT  
Warnings: slight violence, shonen ai  
Pairings: will be SephirothxVincent  
Author: Arigatomina  
Email: arigatoumina (a) hotmail . com  
Website: www . geocities . com / arigatomina

**Sanctuary**

_Part 3_

Standard issue for fighters included a wide variety of items, everything from ethers to tents, grenades to toy soldiers. But no where in the magically enhanced item bag was anything to cook a Jumping with. Sephiroth still had the item bag he'd carried with him on that Soldier mission so long ago, but he knew there was nothing in there to help with his current dilemma. It was beginning to look like his sword was the only option...

He'd picked the spot for camp based entirely on his random whim – the fact that he set camp after Vincent stumbled had nothing to do with it. He didn't care if the man had trouble walking, he just felt like stopping for the day.

The fire materia worked as well on the snow as he'd thought it would, melting straight down to the rock beneath and drying that as well. They had nothing to burn aside from the extra tents in his item bag, but the materia was self-contained – it burned off magic points, not wood. He placed it in the center of the cleared area and weakened it to a small enough flame to cook over.

Skinning the Jumping was an utter fiasco since his long sword was definitely not made for such a precise task. It made him wonder why he'd never thought to put non-commissioned items in his bag for missions that involved camping out. They had the tent, but none of the necessities.

Once he'd resigned himself to using his precious Masamune as a cooking skewer, Sephiroth sat down and glanced over at his captive.

He'd released his control after starting the fire, confident that Vincent wouldn't be running anywhere when he'd had so much trouble just walking straight. Sure enough, the man was seated against the cliff across from him and the tent.

Vincent was sitting with one knee raised, an arm thrown across it, and his forehead resting on the arm. From all appearances, he could have been sleeping. Only he was too far from the fire to be warm. If he were sleeping, he'd have been shivering. Which meant he was simply being stubborn again.

"You know," Sephiroth called pleasantly, "if you get frostbite I'm just going to amputate the parts necessary and send you trotting on without them."

"I know."

The muttered response made him raise an eyebrow, curious that Vincent had replied to him, but also wondering if the man took his threat seriously. "So why are you moping over there instead of unthawing yourself?"

Vincent sighed and opened his eyes, his face still hidden in the crook of his arm. He was tired, too tired to listen to Sephiroth taunt him. And he really didn't know which would be worse – being cold and numb and sleepy, or being humiliated by admitting he couldn't feel his feet well enough to walk.

He sniffed and ducked his head deeper into the crook of his arm. His clothing was cold and damp, and his arm felt the same. But his face and breath were warm and almost soothing. It would be a gentle way out to simply fall asleep.

"Are you really that suicidal?" asked Sephiroth, disgust marring his face. "It's pathetic."

"I told you I wouldn't help you," Vincent said quietly, without lifting his head.

"So freezing to death is better than joining me on a little trip? It's not like I'm making you carry me like some pack animal. You're more of...an honor guard to keep me company. You should be flattered that I invited you to come along."

Vincent lifted his face, dull eyes seeking Sephiroth out. "You must be joking."

A quick grin flashed over his face, but Sephiroth shrugged. "In part. You don't have to be flattered. You don't even have to cooperate. But if you think that sort of listless passive aggressive behavior is going to get you out of this, you're mistaken."

The man moved as if to duck his head again, and Sephiroth's eyes narrowed. "Do you really want me to manipulate you the entire time we're together?"

"I don't care."

Sephiroth glared and shifted out of his easy seat. He'd removed his armor earlier, so it was a simple thing to use it to prop his long sword over the fire. That settled, he went to the tent and began rummaging through his item bag. A moment later he came up with two small stoppered flasks, a wad of greens, and shiny blue Skeeskee feather.

Vincent should have heard his approach, but the man gave no response to it. Sephiroth crouched down in front of him, waiting for a single minute to give him a chance to act on his own. When it was apparent the man's stubbornness was not going to fade, he reached out and caught a hand in that thick black hair.

He'd dozed off a bit during that short silence. Vincent let out a startled sound when his head was jerked back, but it was muffled by something soft and moist. He choked, nearly gagging, and clawed at the hand Sephiroth placed over his mouth.

"Chew it," Sephiroth ordered icily, "or you can damned well choke on it."

The flavor was bitter and sweat at the same time, but oddly familiar. Vincent wondered which type of greens it was, but didn't have the opportunity to ask. He managed a feeble glare as he swallowed the stuff, gasping once Sephiroth uncovered his mouth. He had enough time for a quick breath before the man jerked his head back and emptied a bottle down his throat.

There was something perversely amusing about the way Vincent choked and stared at him with wildly confused and shocked eyes. Sephiroth felt some of his anger fade away, not enough to stop him, but enough to make him slow down so he didn't suffocate his captive before dumping the second bottle down his throat.

"You'd better swallow it," he warned, "or I'll give it to you mouth to mouth."

If possible, those red eyes got even wider. Sephiroth grinned in response. Once the small bottle was empty, he released his hold in that hair and went for the red ribbon wrapped over Vincent's forehead. He lifted it enough to slip the Skeeskee feather in between the band and the man's flushed skin. Then he sat back with a satisfied smile. He'd give him four minutes to react to that.

Vincent shivered, almost cringing back against the wall as he wiped a shaking hand over his mouth. He could see the reason for giving him a reagan green – if that was what it had been, but the liquid? His eyes flicked down to the empty bottles and he caught his breath in disbelief.

Following the man's gaze, Sephiroth smirked. "I've never tried them myself, but I hear Hero's Drinks are very useful for those who feel like wimps. And since you're being very wimpy, it seemed appropriate. I only had two bottles, though, so I had to add a little more emphasis to get your blood boiling. You should be in a nice berserker rage in a few more minutes."

"Are you insane?" Vincent whispered hoarsely.

"Not anymore," Sephiroth shrugged. "Are you?"

Those red eyes flashed at him, a stark flush hitting Vincent's pale face. Sephiroth reacted by catching a hand in the man's hair and jerking him to his feet. A growl sounded seconds before Vincent pulled free.

The man swung at him, an unbalanced attack at best, but with more spirit than Vincent had shown since he first found the man. Sephiroth danced back with a wide, taunting smile. He jerked his head to the side, a fury-enhanced fist ghosting over his shoulder. Then he ducked forward, catching Vincent around the waist and lifting the man over his shoulder.

"I'll kill you!"

Strong hands jerked on his hair, and Sephiroth grimaced in pain even as he grinned and carried his captive over to the tent. "Yes, yes, that's more like it."

"Put me down!"

Sephiroth obeyed by dropping the struggling man on the blankets inside the tent. But he didn't give Vincent time to attack again. He pushed the man down and held him there while he cast a quick esuna to undo the status effect. The reaction was instant. Vincent went from snarling at him, to staring in panicked shock.

"How did you...?"

"This," Sephiroth admitted, holding the feather so Vincent could see it. "Much easier than casting a spell that might not work with your resistance to magic. Items are harder to counter, especially when you're drained already."

And he had to have been severely drained, Vincent realized, if his ribbon hadn't countered the fury effect. Only why had Sephiroth bothered with it when he could have simply manipulated him?

"It's your feet," Sephiroth commented, his hands moving to the clasps on Vincent's boots. "And you weren't going to say anything. I really will have to do something to reprimand you for that."

He glanced down to where Vincent was watching him warily. The man didn't offer any resistance when he removed those boots.

"How did you know?" Vincent asked, his face flushing with bitter embarrassment.

"When you attacked me I could see you weren't standing properly," Sephiroth smirked. "Like you couldn't feel where your feet were. Let's just hope they aren't too far gone or you'll be walking on your ankles the rest of the way to Nibelheim."

Vincent gulped, his eyes shifting to glance back to where Sephiroth had left his sword. He didn't even want to imagine.

"There isn't much I can do about frostbite," Sephiroth was saying, as he prodded those bluish-white feet. "Warm them up and hope you feel like needles are being stabbed into them. You don't feel this at all, do you?"

Sephiroth was prodding one of his toes back far enough to make Vincent pale and shake his head. "No, but don't break it!"

"Why not?" asked Sephiroth. "You don't care, right?"

Fear flashed in Vincent's eyes, and Sephiroth gave him a hard look. Then he got some more greens from his item bag and brought them over to the fire. It only took a few minutes to warm them – without burning them so much that they hardened. When he returned, he pressed them around those icy feet and sat beside them. His expression was dead serious.

"Don't inconvenience me," he warned. "It won't make me let you go, but it will make me hurt you. If you have a problem that is going to slow us down, tell me before it becomes an issue. Otherwise I'll find creative ways to make you wish you had."

And Vincent knew that he would. Sephiroth wouldn't kill him, but he was more than twisted enough to make him wish he were dead. He wasn't going to cooperate, refused to even consider arriving at Nibelheim. But he didn't want to be tortured by Hojo's son.

"Do you understand?" asked Sephiroth.

Vincent gave a slow nod, his eyes lowered to hide the sickness rising in his throat. He felt like he was going to throw up, or cry, or something equally disturbing. "Yes."

"Good," Sephiroth said brightly. "Now get out of those wet clothes and I'll let you test our dinner."

He turned to where he'd left the Jumping, so he missed seeing the blood rush from Vincent's face, leaving him as white as his frozen feet. The rabbit monster looked to be cooked well enough, though his poor abused sword was now dirty with smoke and animal juices. Sephiroth grimaced.

"This better not stain the blade," he muttered.

There was no sound from the tent behind him, and Sephiroth turned with a frustrated frown. Sure enough, Vincent was still sitting where he'd left him. He hadn't even taken off his cloak.

"Are you going to make me manipulate you into doing it?" asked Sephiroth. "If you are, then I'm going to have a regular show of you stripping, so I can make sure you get it all. If that's how you want it, just say the word."

He set his sword down again, so the meat would cool some before they ate it. Then he crossed back to stand at the mouth of the tent, leering down at Vincent.

"You should know," he smirked, "that if I have to make you strip, I'll probably make you do a lot more when you're done. You do have a pretty little mouth."

Vincent gagged, bile threatening to choke him.

The reaction wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind. Sephiroth's eyebrow twitched. Either Vincent couldn't tell the difference between a threat and teasing, or the man was better at annoying him than he'd thought. He sniffed down at him and folded his arms over his chest.

"Be that way," said Sephiroth. "I'll let you eat first, but you are going to dry your clothes out before I sleep. There's no way I'm curling up with a wet man tonight, not in this climate."

Curling up? There was no way Vincent was going to-

The thought didn't finish itself. Hot stabbing pain cut it off halfway, drawing all of his attention down to his feet. Vincent gasped and curved forward, bending his legs and wrapping his hands around his waking flesh. It felt as if his feet were on fire, or being skewered with so many needles he couldn't distinguish one from another. He didn't even hear Sephiroth's sharp, almost happy laugh.

"And there are the needles," Sephiroth said quietly, smirking as he turned back to the fire.

That painful awakening seemed to last forever. Once it started to fade out and he was aware of his surrounding again, Vincent felt shaky and almost too weak to sit up. Just keeping quiet through that had worn the rest of the Hero's Drink from his system. But he wasn't surprised. Cloud had taken the stuff often when the boy had fought in the Golden Saucer arena. The effect only lasted long enough for a few attacks – minimum exertion at best.

Something tantalizing caught his nose, and Vincent lifted his head to find Sephiroth sitting at the mouth of the tent, a foot from him.

"You try it first," said Sephiroth. "Just in case."

That didn't sound encouraging, but Vincent accepted what looked like a very muscular chicken leg. Overgrown rabid rabbit, his mind reminded him. He stared at the meat for a moment, waiting for the wary disgust to clench his stomach. But it never came. The meat smelled delicious and he was starving.

Sephiroth leaned back in surprise as Vincent tore into the leg with an enthusiasm that almost appalled him. His mouth opened and closed twice before he turned away to try some of the food himself. It smelled good, and he was too hungry to wait and see if Vincent got sick after a few hours. Besides which, he'd never been one to watch someone else eat while he sat hungry.

They ate in an almost companionable silence, momentarily forgetting their animosity in favor of satisfying their stomachs. What was left would be best taken with them, as far as Sephiroth was concerned, but managing that proved to be a challenge. He didn't even have salt to dry it out with, and while it was cold enough to keep it fresh for a day or so, he'd still need something to carry it in.

He improvised with a strip from the tent, and a few more of the greens from his item bag – Sylkis this time. The item bag was enhanced to keep the greens fresh forever, so it would undoubtedly work the same for other food. He'd never had to throw out old greens, after all.

Once the food was stored away, and his sword was cleaned well enough so it didn't smell like rabbit meat, Sephiroth settled himself to his final task. Stripping his stubborn and skittish captive without making him puke in disgust. He had an idea more innuendoes would bring the rabbit right back up and he really didn't want to see that.

Vincent knew what the man planned the moment Sephiroth took off his coat. The only question in his mind was whether he'd be safer trying to fight him off, or cooperating. He came to a quick decision and stumbled out of the tent before Sephiroth could enter it and corner him.

"I'll dry my clothes," Vincent said sharply. "I don't need assistance."

Sephiroth gave him a suspicious look, still crouched at the mouth of the tent. "And you won't do anything stupid like keeping your soaked pants on out of modesty? There are two blankets – wrapping in one of them won't do any good if you're still wearing wet clothes underneath."

He grabbed one of the blankets and tossed it to Vincent, nodding when the man looked down at it. "Take off everything that's damp. It should be dry by morning."

With that, Sephiroth climbed into the tent and kicked his boots so they rolled over to the fire materia – just close enough so they'd be warm when he got back in them. And he made it a point to lie down so Vincent wouldn't freak out and waste half the night by gagging at him.

He'd never get over that. No one had ever gagged at him before.

To his credit, Vincent did just what he'd said he would. He took off everything that was damp. But he did it within the shelter of the blanket. He wasn't about to do anything that would encourage Sephiroth in taking advantage of his manipulation materia. The very idea made him nauseated.

Once his clothing was spread out to dry, he found himself a nice spot close enough to stay warm himself, but far enough from the tent to feel safe. It turned out to be a wasted effort.

"You're not sleeping out there," Sephiroth remarked, not bothering to sit up. "Get in here before I have to come out and get you."

Vincent bristled and blushed at the same time, his teeth gritting tight enough to ache. "I'm fine here."

With a long sigh and a soft mutter about stubborn captives, Sephiroth sat up. "Get in here right _now_."

"There's no need," Vincent said back, his voice still tight. "I'm warm enough right here."

"Maybe," Sephiroth snorted, "but I don't care if you're warm or not. I'm cold. There's a reason these tents come with two blankets. So get over here and share."

"You have extra tents," Vincent gritted out. "Get more blankets from them if you're that cold."

"Oh, you're really asking for it," Sephiroth marveled, shaking his head at the man. "I told you not to inconvenience me."

Sephiroth shoved off his blanket and Vincent flinched, abruptly aware that he had no clothing on under his own blanket and no where to run, especially with bare feet. The man stalked towards him and he jumped to his feet. At least, he tried to jump. He ended up wobbling and almost falling right onto the fire materia's cheerful blaze.

An arm hooked around his waist and once again he found himself hanging over Sephiroth's shoulder. Only this time he didn't dare kick, not with the skirt-like blanket he was wrapped in.

"You're such a nuisance," muttered Sephiroth. "I don't know if I'd rather beat you or rape you, or just shove your head in the snow till you pass out and stop being a brat."

Vincent was almost thrown into the tent, the landing enough to wind him. He caught his breath and steeled himself for a struggle. Unfortunately Sephiroth was not only stronger, he was in a much better position being over him instead of lying on his back.

A tugging match on that blanket would have ended with it torn to shreds, and Sephiroth still wanted to take his frustration out on someone. So instead of fighting for it, he shoved his arm down over Vincent's neck and gave the man something else to tug on. That left him free to undo the cocoon Vincent had made of his cover. As soon as it was spread back, Sephiroth dove in.

Weight landed on Vincent's chest, nearly knocking him over into the side of the tent, and he was too surprised to be embarrassed when Sephiroth stretched out beside him and wrapped them both in the blanket. He blinked bemused, and confused, eyes at the man, watching Sephiroth reach down and drag his own blanket up to lie on top of the first one. It wasn't until that was done that Sephiroth actually looked at him.

"Now tell me this isn't warmer," Sephiroth sniffed. "And don't you dare gag at me."

Vincent shifted to put more space between them, but didn't get far between the blanket and Sephiroth's arm. He was jerked back over, his face pressed down against the man's neck. He didn't gag, but he did choke a little.

"Shut up and go to sleep," said Sephiroth. "And I'm warning you right now, if you try kneeing me in the groin, I'll geld you."

With that warning, he tossed a leg over Vincent and ducked his face against thick black hair. His captive didn't make a sound, but he thought he was still breathing. Sephiroth's brows lowered as he listened. Then he sighed and loosened his hold on the man's shoulders.

"Can you breathe?"

Vincent grimaced, his throat very dry, and his face feeling very hot. "Do you have to...hold me like this?"

"It's either that or tie you up," Sephiroth admitted. "Unless you want to roll over and have me at your back. We can do it that way, if you want."

A muffled choking sound answered him, and Sephiroth glared, his eyebrow twitching. That was nearly as bad as the gagging.

"Just go to sleep," he muttered.

- - -  
TBC


End file.
